The Light, the Dark, and the True
by Wyx
Summary: During OotP, but does not follow book's plot. Harry is informed of the existence of three ancient paths: the Light Arts, the Dark Arts, and the True Arts. As Voldemort seeks the Dark Arts and Dumbledore pursues the Light, how will Harry prepare himself?
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

This is my first fan fiction, please read and review with that in mind.

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Harry's emerald eyes snapped open, as he awoke with a start. His deft fingers brushed messy locks of hair out of his forehead. The lightning bolt scar burned as if it could sear a path into his mind.

"Shit," he thought. "This is never a good sign."

XXXXX

Albus Dumbledore sat in his office with a grave expression. Across his desk, he faced the grim visage of Severus Snape.

"It has finally happened, Headmaster. The Dark Lord has found it."

"_Necropolis_," whispered Dumbledore. "I must depart as soon as possible, but first I require a meeting with young Mr. Potter. Kindly alert the Order to bring him to me."

"As you wish." Snape swept away, cloak rippling in his wake.

XXXXX

Nymphadora Tonks and Alastor "Mad-Eye" Moody Apparated with a soft _pop_ into Privet Drive. Moody waved his wand and a silver wolverine appeared and floated into the abnormally tidy house in front of them. The luminescent creature approached the only non-obese male in the house.

"Potter, pack your stuff and meet us in the street. Dumbledore calls," said the Patronus. Harry blanched at the unexpected intrusion, until he recognized the voice.

"Moody?" he asked.

"No, it's Barty Crouch. Don't be daft, boy. You have two minutes." Harry plied the loose floorboard open and removed his trunk, broomstick, cauldron, and other magical paraphernalia. Hedwig hooted as Harry whisked her cage off his desk and sprinted out the door as fast as he could.

"One minute and thirty-six seconds. Not bad, Potter," growled Moody.

"Wotcher, Harry," winked Tonks. Moody gripped his arm before Harry could respond, and with a _crack_, the unusual trio disappeared.

XXXXX

Moody and Tonks bid Harry farewell at the Hogwarts Gates, where he was accosted by Professor McGonagall.

"Professor Dumbledore asks that you allow Dobby to take care of your possessions, and that you immediately report to his office," she greeted him. "The password is Sugar Quill." Harry summoned Dobby and did as she asked. Harry made his way past the gargoyle and into the Headmaster's office.

"Greetings, Harry. Would you care for a lemon drop?" inquired Dumbledore, as he examined the obviously groggy boy before him.

"Not particularly. Sir, am I here because my scar hurt tonight?" Harry replied.

"As perceptive as usual, I see. Tell me Harry, if you had to associate one emotion with your scar's pain this time, what would it be?"

"Well, I'm not entirely sure how to describe it. I know that I felt joy, but it was more complex than that. I also felt…the opening, of possibilities unknown," said Harry, as he pondered. Dumbledore paled slightly, but showed no signs of surprise.

"It seems that my suspicions, as well as Severus's information, are correct. Soon, Voldemort will ascend to the position of Necromagus." Dumbledore held up a hand, cutting off Harry's obvious question. "Allow me to explain," he continued. "You are, of course, aware that Voldemort has filled his repertoire of spells with the darkest and most forbidden magicks. However, there are spells of a certain magnitude that no amount of research and altering of the soul can teach alone. The spells that I refer to are the Light Arts, the True Arts, and the Dark Arts. While many believe Voldemort and his followers practice the Dark Arts, in reality, they merely attempt to wield a shoddy and impotent replica of those arts. The Necromagi command legions of Inferi with the lift of a finger, Inferi with combat capabilities far above those normally encountered. Their unholy craft could amplify Voldemort's abilities and make his domination of Magical England all the easier."

"Professor, if these Necromagi are so almighty, then why have they not conquered the world yet?" asked Harry.

"Two facts prevent this occurrence. The first is that Necromagi, while unholy and arcane beyond the understanding of most, are not inherently evil. A select few of them choose to wield their abilities in favor of preserving this world's balance, which means that they restrain their brethren from unleashing too much havoc. The second factor is the presence of the Clerics, practitioners of the Light Arts. While the Clerics are, for the most part, content to allow the world to run its own affairs, they would have no choice but to intervene should the Necromagi run rampant. However, I have no doubts that once Voldemort has drained Necropolis of all its knowledge and resources, he will not hesitate to become the first rogue Necromagus in centuries," Dumbledore explained.

"That could backfire on him, then. What if the Clerics are more powerful than him?" mused Harry.

"Unfortunately, in the case of a single Necromagus, I believe that the Cleric Council will be more than happy to sit in their ivory towers and demand that the Necromagi Elders control their kin, rather than take action themselves," Dumbledore answered. "Which is why I called you here today. I wish to inform you that I will not be here during this year, as I will be traveling to the Lost Temple in pursuit of the Light Arts."

"Sir, may I join you in these studies?" asked Harry.

"I'm afraid not, Harry. Your soul, although pure in its own right, contains a portion of Voldemort's soul. No matter how persuasive you are in your explanations of said circumstance, the Clerics will almost definitely refuse to teach you their ways," replied Dumbledore. "I simply ask that you study diligently and prepare, for I estimate that within a year, Voldemort will emerge from Necropolis and unleash new and terrible horrors." With that, Dumbledore removed his wand from his robes and tapped a flamboyantly painted cow ornament on his desk. Understanding that a Portkey had been created and that he had been dismissed, Harry reached for the ornament.

"Good-bye, and good luck," said Dumbledore, as Harry was pulled away.

XXXXX

Author's Note: I intend to update frequently, but life may interfere. Wish me luck.

Edits: I added a transition between Privet Drive and Dumbledore's office. Thanks for the review, Flamel. Also replaced dashes with X's.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.

Also, though this story takes place during the summer before Harry's 5th year, let's assume he knows of the Order and Grimmauld Place. I did warn that this story didn't follow the plot.

Thanks for the reviews everyone, I'm trying to keep your comments in mind as I write this.

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Voldemort cautiously stepped into the imposing halls of Necropolis. He was confident enough in his abilities, yet only a fool would not practice prudence in the halls of the dead. The walls were composed of ebony bricks and dank gray mortar, from which the stench of death emanated. Lamps crafted of human skulls lined the corridors, lighting the passages with otherworldly green flames. Voldemort could sense a magic that was more raw, more powerful than the sort that he was used to. As he strode, the shadows seemed to dance in the corners of his eyes. The darkness he was so comfortable in, darkness that he thrived in, suddenly seemed eerie and arcane. The flickering shadows twisted languidly and arose in a humanoid form with burning red eyes.

"Tom Riddle, the Elders know of what you seek. By finding Necropolis, you have proven yourself worthy of our Arts," spoke the shadow-figure, its words echoed by the void that acted as its mouth.

Voldemort hissed at the use of his true name, but merely replied: "Bring me to your master." The shadow-figure expanded menacingly, cackling as it advanced.

"So shall it be." The void widened, and swallowed Voldemort whole.

XXXXX

Harry found himself at Grimmauld Place, where Hedwig and his belongings were waiting for him. Evidently Dumbledore had decided that Dobby was worthy of admission into the Order's headquarters. He heard several cries of "Harry!" as he was enveloped in a throng of red-heads and a bushy-haired brunette.

"It's great to see you all again," he grinned.

"Likewise, mate," replied Ron.

"We've missed you, Harry," said Hermione. To his surprise, Ginny calmly smiled and greeted him, rather than acting as nervous as she usually did. Suddenly, there was a poof of yellow feathers as Harry was replaced by a befuddled canary. Fred and George erupted into laughter, shortly followed by the rest.

"We've been waiting to use our new skin-contact Canary Creams for so long!" Fred exclaimed. As Harry reverted to his human form, he privately noted that he should never accept so much as a handshake from the Weasley twins ever again.

"So, Harry, you're here about two weeks ahead of schedule. Care to explain?" asked George, with a gleam of curiosity in his eyes.

"Err…" Harry wasn't sure exactly how much of his newfound knowledge he was allowed to divulge. "Dumbledore had to leave for urgent business and he wanted to make sure I got here safely before he left." He was sure that Hermione, at least, would see through his story, but he intended to tell her and Ron soon anyway.

After moving all his possessions into his and Ron's room, Harry was unsurprised to see Hermione regarding him with a knowing look.

"Harry, that was the least convincing lie I've ever heard," she said disapprovingly. Ron looked surprised; it was clear that he'd bought Harry's bogus explanation. Harry sighed and began to explain the night's events.

"Whoa, I've never heard of any of that!" Ron exclaimed.

"Neither have I," pronounced Hermione. The disappointment that her books had failed to mention these facts was laughably apparent in her face.

"Not surprising. Dumbledore said that there hasn't been a rogue Necromagus in centuries, so the Clerics would have no reason appear. As for the True Arts, they are mostly a mystery. I'd imagine that you'd have to search through some fairly ancient books if you wanted to learn more," Harry replied.

"Well, let's ask Professor McGonagall and Professor Flitwick when we get back to Hogwarts," Hermione said. "In the meantime, let's read up on some spells to get you ready, Harry." Ron predictably groaned, but Harry knew that there was no way that he'd spend his summer idling if Voldemort was getting stronger by the minute.

XXXXX

Voldemort at first panicked at being consumed by shadow, but the darkness soon dissipated. As his vision cleared, he saw that he was in an ornately decorated room. The theme seemed to be a combination of gold, ruby, and bone. Voldemort approved of the mystique of the style but the cliché of bone decorations was almost amusing.

"Gray Lord Voldemort," spoke a previously unnoticed man in the room. Had he been there the whole time, or was this some sort of trick? "I do not address you by your claimed title of 'Dark Lord', because as you are no doubt aware, so far, you have not performed any magicks worthy of the title, Dark." The man's eyes were pure white, as was his coarse, flowing hair. Spires of bone gilded his dark robes, which undoubtedly covered more bone-related trappings.

"Your impudence shall be your downfall," spat an enraged Voldemort. He lifted his wand to teach this old fool some manners. Before he could utter a spell, however, spikes of bone erupted from the ground and the walls and bound him in place. Try as he might, Voldemort could not shatter the bones with his bursts of magic. The air around the man erupted into green nether-flames.

"Fool! Know that I could slay you with the same effort that it would take to squash an ant. Pride is a virtue, but it is millenniums too early for you to challenge a Necromagus Elder." The man paused to withdraw a black tome from his robes. "Understand this: the Necromagi do not seek to master Death, but to befriend the ancient force of Undeath." The spikes receded, and Voldemort accepted the book, biting back his pride. The man led him to a less opulent room. "These are your quarters. You will find all the corpses and bones you'll need in here," he said as he faded into the darkness.

XXXXX

As Harry boarded the Hogwarts Express, he grinned in anticipation of the coming year. The cheerful rumbling of the engine and the feeling of magic in the air reminded him of the place he first called home: Hogwarts. Harry sometimes wondered why Hogwarts didn't simply set up an enormous Portkey to the school, but he supposed that tradition took precedence over convenience. Harry couldn't wait to interrogate – err, ask – McGonagall and Flitwick about the things he'd learned in Dumbledore's office. Though studying with Hermione did teach Harry several new and useful spells, he was sure that the three ancient Arts that Dumbledore had mentioned were the most essential part to defeating Voldemort. One thing was different about the train this year: the presence of several adults besides the usual conductor and train personnel was clear.

"Must be some sort of defense force," said Ron.

"Makes sense, we _are_ more vulnerable while in transit. I just hope that bloody git Snape isn't part of this. I'm not sure if I'm ready to deal with his crap this early," Harry replied.

"Mister Potter, I'd advise you to not speak of your teachers in such a fashion," came a dry voice behind them.

"Professor Flitwick!" Hermione squealed. Harry mentally face-palmed.

"Sorry, Professor."

After Hermione and Ron left for the prefect's meeting, Harry followed Flitwick and found a compartment near his patrol sector.

"Professor, could I ask you something?" he asked.

"Of course, Potter. It's never too early to start learning," Flitwick responded.

"I was wondering, sir, if you know of the Light Arts, the Dark Arts, or the True Arts?" Harry inquired. Understanding dawned in Flitwick's eyes.

"Ah, you refer to the Core Arts!" he exclaimed. "Albus did mention that you might bring this subject up. This is not the proper place to discuss such powerful magic. Meet me tomorrow night in my office, at 8:30."

"Aww, Professor! Is there anything you can tell me right now?" Harry knew he was being a smidge whiny, but he'd been waiting all summer to hear about the Core Arts.

"Well, I can point you to a source of information who isn't busy guarding students," Flitwick answered.

"Oh?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact, I believe that Ms. Greengrass is in your year?"

XXXXX

Dumbledore sat in peaceful meditation. The training required to learn the Light Arts required great discipline and focus, but he knew that he could prevail. Though he may not be destined to defeat Voldemort on his own, Dumbledore was certain that the powers of the Light would be imperative to ensure that Harry would get a chance to combat the notorious wizard. Dumbledore returned to organizing his thoughts. The Light Arts took patience, but a man of his age knew patience like an old friend.

XXXXX

"You mean…Daphne Greengrass? The Slytherin?" Harry sputtered.

"The one and only! If I recall correctly, Ms. Greengrass is the descendent of Necromagus Elder Aleister Greengrass. She may not know much about her ancestor, but I'd imagine that he may have passed down portions of his knowledge. Perhaps you could acquaint yourself with Ms. Greengrass during this trip?"

Harry gulped. He knew that it'd be difficult to gain Greengrass's trust. Daphne Greengrass, with her straight silvery-blonde hair and gray-green eyes, already intimidated men with her beauty. That, combined with a rather frosty demeanor and the fact that she was a Slytherin, made Harry's task seem near impossible. He sighed, gathered his courage, and departed in search of the compartments frequented by the Slytherins.

XXXXX

Daphne Greengrass slammed her compartment door closed for the third time. It seemed that every guy at Hogwarts was either too scared to talk to her or too arrogant to be worth speaking to. Through the semi-translucent door, she saw another figure approach her compartment.

"FOR THE LAST TIME MALFOY, NO MEANS NO!" she shouted as she opened the door. But instead of Malfoy, there stood a green-eyed boy with disheveled brown hair and a shocked expression.

"Err…is this a bad time?" Harry asked. He struggled repress the peals of laughter that threatened to burst through; Harry was glad to see that there were others who could put Malfoy in his place. Whether it was due to her mortification at her outburst or her surprise at encountering the Boy Who Lived, Daphne forgot to adopt her usual icy attitude.

"No, never mind, Potter. Come in," she responded. Harry entered the compartment and sat across from her, fidgeting uncomfortably under her questioning gaze. How would he bring the subject up without seeming too power-hungry or like a slimy git who was finding new ways to hit on her? Finally, remembering how easily Hermione saw through his lie, Harry settled on the bald truth.

"Greengrass, I promise that I'm only here in search of information," he stated. Daphne stared into his bottle-green eyes for a moment, and then nodded. "Do you know anything about Aleister Greengrass?"

Daphne stiffened. She knew that Harry was famous around Hogwarts for being somewhat of an enigma, but it was still surprising to hear that he was aware of the Dark Arts. Daphne replied: "Since you mentioned him specifically, I assume that you know of the Necromagi. Aleister is my grandfather's great-great-grandfather."

"Is?"

"As far as I know, Aleister Greengrass is still alive. I have never met him, given that he never leaves Necropolis, but I believe he has left records of his studies within Greengrass Manor," Daphne explained.

"Would it be possible for me to examine these records?" Harry tentatively asked. He knew how audacious it was for him to expect Greengrass to share her family's secret knowledge. Daphne didn't look offended, however. She gave him an appraising look. Daphne had never really taken a good look at Harry Potter, given that they'd hardly spoken in the past and that she was never one to flock to fame. Upon inspection, Harry Potter was actually quite handsome, in his own way. His eyes were a darker shade of green than hers, and they seemed to smolder with his many burdens. Harry's messy dark locks gave him a rakish air, of a man who had no time for petty activities such as combing.

"Potter, I'd like to trust you. But I can't. Why do you need this information?" she asked.

"Dumbledore told me that Voldemort is learning the Dark Arts at Necropolis as we speak," Harry replied. Daphne's eyes widened, but Harry continued to speak. "I need to know what a Necromagus is capable of doing, so that I can prepare for him. I know that your family is neutral, but wouldn't you and your family feel safer without him around?"

Somewhat surprised that a Gryffindor would consider the safety of a Slytherin, Daphne fought against her common sense and decided to give the boy a chance. "When we get to Hogwarts, I'll Floo home and pick up the scrolls. It'll take some convincing for my parents to let me remove them, but if you swear an Unbreakable Vow, I shouldn't have too many problems. I'll get Tracey Davis to bind the oath; she's the only Slytherin who I trust. Meet me Wednesday night at the library, and we'll take it from there."

"Sounds good," Harry said as he stood up. With a small smile and a wave of his hand, Harry turned to leave. "I'll see you around then, Greengrass."

"Call me Daphne," she replied as she returned his smile. Harry left feeling inexplicably happy. He was pleased to have made progress on his research of the Core Arts, but Harry couldn't help but to think of how enchanting Daphne's smile was.

XXXXX

Author's Note: I know some of you have requested longer chapters, but this seemed like a good place to end this chapter.

Also, apparently the dashes I've been using to separate the sections have been failing. I will be switching to X's.

I hope I'm taking this story in the right direction, many reviews said that the first chapter had potential. I'll try not to disappoint.


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all related concepts/characters belong to J.K. Rowling.

Thanks a bunch, reviewers and subscribers.

Once again, this story is not meant to follow the plot of the original books.

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The rest of the Hogwarts Express trip was relatively uneventful. Ron and Hermione returned from the prefects meeting to inform Harry that (to his disgust) Draco Malfoy and Pansy Parkinson had been made Slytherin prefects. Ron wrinkled his nose at the lunch his mother packed him; it's a wonder how that woman hasn't noticed her son's dislike for corned beef for 5 straight years.

Harry wore a small frown as he stepped off the train. Why wasn't Hagrid here to welcome the first years? He'd missed his bearded gargantuan friend. Though Professor Grubby-Plank stepped in to fulfill Hagrid's usual task, Harry felt that it wasn't quite the same (though a tiny part of him knew that the only problem he had with Grubby-Plank was that she was, in all respects, a much better teacher than Hagrid). As usual, Harry was subjected to numerous stares, only this time, many of them contained hostility or disdain. He knew to expect this sort of behavior after reading the _Daily Prophet_ but the anticipation didn't stop his frustration. Ron and Hermione appeared by his side to drag him to the Great Hall. They understood his feelings but knew there was nothing he could do about them.

After the usual Sorting Ceremony, Professor McGonagall rose to deliver the Headmaster's usual address in Dumbledore's absence. As she started to list Filch's annual additions to the contraband list, a short woman with frazzled brown hair and a wide toad's mouth stood up and announced the words that would become her catchphrase: _Hem hem_. The woman introduced herself as Dolores Umbridge, the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, and followed up her introduction with one of the most boring speeches Harry had ever heard. As his eyelids threatened to lower, he occasionally caught phrases such as "progress must be discouraged for progress's sake". Finally, as Umbridge concluded her speech, the food appeared on the tables and friends started to wake each other up. Harry found himself sneaking glances at a certain blonde at the Slytherin table until eye contact and a knowing smile informed him that he'd been caught. With reddened cheeks, he returned to his treacle tart. Near the end of the meal, there was a small commotion when every student in the vicinity of the Weasley twins popped into confused little canaries. Harry joined in with the laughter; the joke was far more amusing now that he wasn't the victim. Fred and George noticed the Umbridge's disapproving glare. Their eyes gleamed as they looked at each other and recognized the same thought: a new target!

After the Feast, Harry bid adieu to his companions and left to seek his meeting with Flitwick. He hurried through the corridors until he finally reached the office of the diminutive Charms instructor.

"Right on time, Mr. Potter. Please, have a seat," Flitwick said. "Now, I'm curious as to your sudden interest in the Core Arts. How did this come about?"

"To keep it simple, the gist of the event is that I learned that Voldemort is studying the Dark Arts," Harry summarized. If he was very much surprised, Flitwick hid it well.

"Ah, right then. Before I begin my explanation, you should know of the history of the Core Arts. According to wizard lore, long ago, the entity known as Trismegistus emerged from the void in search of knowledge. Though omnipotent, he longed for omniscience. The Hermetic tribes of the Mediterranean shores banded together and presented all their wisdom in the form of the _Kybalion_. Trismegistus barely gleamed a scrap of new information from the text, but nevertheless, the offering pleased him. He decided that the Hermetic tribes deserved a reward. From his shadow, Trismegistus created the Dark Arts. From his heart, the Light Arts. And finally, from his essence, Trismegistus crafted the True Arts. Incidentally, the name Trismegistus means 'thrice great'." Flitwick paused to allow the information to sink in, then continued: "Of course, there is no proof that all this is true. It is merely stuff of legend, to explain the creation of the most ancient and potent magicks. Now then, onto more practical matters! Potter, you will need to learn one of the three Core Arts if you wish to fight on the same level as Voldemort."

"I pretty much guessed that, sir. Circumstances prevent me from being taught the Light Arts, but Professor Dumbledore told me that the Dark Arts are not inherently evil. How would I go about learning them?" Harry asked.

"I'm glad to see that you don't deal with nonsensical prejudices. As far as I know, the Dark Arts can only be taught in the hidden city of Necropolis. Rumor has it that the task of finding the 'City of the Dead' is rigorous enough to deem a wizard worthy of the Necromantic teachings. However, I am not privy to the riddle that serves as the first clue to the quest," Flitwick said regretfully. Harry was beginning to despair; the search for the Core Arts continued to look more impossible than ever.

"Professor, do you know anything about the True Arts then? I know that they are considered to be a complete mystery by most, but any information at all would be usual," Harry inquired.

"I'm afraid not, Mr. Potter. I'm sorry that I can give you no real leads, but if you ever find some, I'd be more than happy to assist you with them," Flitwick said sadly.

"Good night then, Professor."

"Good night, Potter."

XXXXX

Hermione walked back to the common room with a frown. She was disappointed that Professor McGonagall, who was like a mentor to her, knew nothing about the ancient arts that Harry had mentioned. It shouldn't have been a surprise, she supposed. McGonagall was nothing if not practical; she probably decided that archaic conundrums weren't worth her time. Still, in her mind, a teacher should be prepared to answer any question a student could pose. At the portrait of the Fat Lady, Hermione ran into Harry.

"Ooh, Harry, where'd you go after the Feast?" she asked.

"Met with Flitwick. He told me some interesting stuff; we'll go to the Room of Requirements to get a Pensieve later this week. Too complicated for me to explain. What about you?" he replied. "Gimcrack." The Fat Lady swung open.

"Turns out McGonagall's never heard of any of the three Arts you mentioned," Hermione answered as they stepped through the portrait hole. They found Ron sitting by the fire, brow furrowed in concentration as he struggled through the remnants of his summer work.

"Oi! You two! I need help!" he complained. Hermione hid her smile.

"Well well, it's not every day that a girl gets put in this situation. Oh wait, it is!" she teased.

"Very funny. Now which goblin leader instigated the Rebellion of 1879?"

"Skincleave the Cruel. What have you been doing all summer, that prevented you from finishing this?" Hermione scolded.

"Important things!" Ron replied, affronted. At her raised eyebrows, Ron elaborated: "Like Quidditch…and eating…and sleeping…" Harry laughed while Hermione adopted what he liked to think of as the "Molly Weasley look". They spent the rest of the evening helping Ron make up for his procrastination, and Harry went to bed and drifted to sleep with a light heart.

XXXXX

Daphne returned to the Slytherin common room through a veil of emerald-green flames. Her parents had been reluctant to part with the precious relics, but they were reassured when she told them that Harry had promised to swear the Unbreakable Vow. Speaking of Harry, the Gryffindor boy's glances at dinner made her laugh. He was possibly one of the least subtle people whom she'd ever been acquainted with (though coming from a Slytherin, that wasn't saying much). Daphne worried that Tracey Davis suspected that something was up. Her grin had been a little too knowing, despite the unusual fact that for once, her best friend had managed to hold her tongue (at dinner, at least). No sooner had Daphne thought about her friend, when the door opened.

"I'm back, darling," Tracey said with a saucy grin, as she entered the dormitory.

"I've missed you so much, dear" Daphne deadpanned.

"Oh hush. We both know that it's not me that you're missing right now," Tracey retorted.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Daphne lied, though she shielded her face with her blanket. Even with all his endearing sincerity and appealing features, on principle Daphne could not start caring for a boy whom she'd only spoken to once. Or at least that's what she told herself. Tracey shrugged and decided to leave it be.

XXXXX

The next morning, Harry awoke in a daze. He didn't quite remember his dream, but he recalled that it involved Crumple-Horned Snorkacks and booger-flavored Every Flavor Beans. On second thought, it was probably for the best that he didn't remember this specific dream.

Harry was slightly disappointed not to see Daphne at breakfast. He supposed that she was a late sleeper. If it wasn't for Ron's omnipresent hunger and Hermione's need for a consistent schedule, Harry imagined that he too would resist breakfast in favor of sleep's sweet clutches often enough.

All of Harry's classes passed uneventfully enough, until he stepped inside the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. Ever since Umbridge delivered her speech, Harry knew that her class would be a pain. But the class was worse than boring. The Ministry-approved bollocks that she spewed from her gloating toad's mouth infuriated him. When she touched on Cedric's death he finally lost it.

"Cedric's death was a murder, and you know it. Voldemort's back, and you and Fudge are dooming all of England with your moronic power games," he spat, infuriated that she would tarnish the memory of his friend.

"SILENCE, POTTER! I will not have you corrupting this class with your vile lies," Umbridge shrieked, sounding maniacally vehement. She scribbled something onto an obnoxiously pink piece of parchment and tied it in a frilly ribbon. "Take this to your Head of House."

Harry's wand arm was itching to slip into his robes and hex Umbridge into oblivion, but the tiny logical part of him won the day. He grabbed the roll of parchment and stalked off to Professor McGonagall's office. She was unsurprisingly irked at his getting in trouble on the first day of class and informed him of his week's worth of detentions. McGonagall's face softened and she then took on a more careful tone.

"Potter, you realize that Dolores Umbridge is here as a representative of the Ministry, correct? You must understand that Cornelius Fudge is dangerously insecure in his office right now. Because Dumbledore is abroad, there is nobody on our side who is influential enough to put a stop to Fudge's madness. Yet even as he is unopposed, Fudge still worries over his perception of Dumbledore. He has convinced himself that Dumbledore has left the country in hopes of recruiting foreign wizards to help overthrow the Ministry," she warned. "Now go, Potter. If anybody asks, we were discussing the prospects of the Gryffindor Quidditch team. By the way, I expect the Cup to stay in my office for another year."

XXXXX

Nightfall could not come fast enough. The day had been ruined by Umbridge's shenanigans while the ever-fickle students of Hogwarts continued to believe the absurdly unreliable _Daily Prophet_ over the boy they'd known for all of their educational careers. Harry rushed to the library, eager to fulfill the appointment he'd been promised yesterday. He found Daphne sitting across from a girl with curly dark hair who he assumed was Tracey Davis.

"It's not nice to keep a girl waiting, Harry," Daphne said as she spotted him. Harry momentarily panicked, but her grin let him know of the jest

"My sincerest apologies," he replied.

"Down to business, then," interrupted Tracey in a brisk, efficient tone. "Shall we seek out a more private location?" Without waiting for a response, she stood up and walked out of the library, as Harry and Daphne followed close behind.

As they walked, Daphne muttered into his ear: "Tracey's rushing so that she can go meet up with her new boyfriend."

"And I thought I'd met the Slytherin version of Hermione," he whispered back. Daphne giggled, an unusual sound from the ice queen. They reached the 7th floor, where Tracey and Daphne began pacing in from of the portrait of Barnabas the Barmy. Harry was surprised that other Hogwarts students knew of what Dobby liked to call the Come and Go Room. Behind the door was a cozy well-lit room. Daphne maneuvered them into the proper position to swear the Vow. They stood about three feet apart facing each other and extended their wand arms. His hand gripped her forearm as hers did the same to his. Tracey then lifted her wand over their clasped arms and began.

"Harry Potter, do you swear to never disclose the information in the Greengrass family's scrolls?" she asked

"I do." A tongue of flame bound their arms

"And do you, Harry Potter, swear to use this information to fight the He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named and to the best of your ability, protect Daphne and her family?"

"I do." A second tongue shot out.

"Finally, do you, Harry potter, swear to take Daphne to the next Hogsmeade weekend?"

"I do." The third tongue completed the seal and the flames faded. The words were barely out of his mouth when Harry realized what he'd just agreed to. Daphne was glaring daggers at her friend.

"Well, toodleoo!" Tracey skipped out of the room before Daphne could hex her.

"Sorry about that, Harry. I know you'd rather hang out with Weasley and Granger," Daphne said apologetically as she turned and brushed her long blonde hair out of her crystalline-green eyes.

"Not true. In fact, I'd rather do this properly," he insisted. "Daphne, will you come to Hogsmeade with me next weekend?"

The enchanting smile appeared on her face again, as she replied: "It'd be my pleasure." Harry merely smiled back, but his insides were dancing a jig. True, he'd only managed to get the date because he'd die otherwise, but he chose to ignore that fact for now. In the midst of Harry's inner celebration, Daphne began unrolling the scrolls she'd brought. There were three scrolls, each painted with intricate layers of runes. She arranged them in a triangle and pricked her thumb with a knife she brought. A drop of blood spilled on each scroll. The runes on the scrolls began to glow vibrantly, and the runes spun across the pages. A faint image started to materialize, until the runes completed their revolutions and the image solidified. Upon the scrolls stood a man with flowing white hair and black robes decorated with spires of bone.

"Ah, finally somebody decided to activate me. Merlin, it's been awhile. Is that you, Alera?" asked the man.

"Try younger," Daphne replied.

"Maeve?"

"Younger."

"Astoria?"

"Too young."

"Daphne! It's so great to finally meet you!" exclaimed the man. He leapt forward in an attempt to give her a hug but he passed straight through. "Damn, I keep forgetting that I'm an imprint." Harry grinned.

"I'm honored, ancestor. Please, we activated your scroll in hopes that you could impart your knowledge of the Dark Arts to us. Would you be willing to do so?" Daphned asked.

"Of course, my dear! As my grandfather Baruthas used to say, knowledge is like riding a Crumple-Horned Snorkack through an ocean of booger-flavored Every Flavor Beans," the man declared. Harry suddenly remembered the contents of his dream. "But because you have not completed the quest for Necropolis, the knowledge I am capable of sharing with you is severely limited."

"I'm rather ashamed of how useless my family's secret scrolls are," Daphne whispered. Harry thought he smelled jasmine and roses in her perfume as she leaned in.

"Hey, I heard that, young lady! At least I can recite the first clue of the quest," said the man with a hint of a pout on his face.

"_Xer thengas_

_ Telemor d'vonu_

_ Lleb las_

_ D'evenar_

_ Phlan juor das!_

_ Zloth hrim_

_ Ayat ayer"_

Harry and Daphne exchanged dumbstruck looks.

"By the way, the clue is an ancient Hermetic poem. There's no real way to translate it to English," explained the imprint.

"Great, now I just need to go learn an extinct language so I can undertake an impossible quest," Harry groaned. Daphne patted his arm sympathetically.

"Why do you need to learn the Dark Arts anyway? If you want to beat that Voldemort guy, don't just copy what he learns!" asked the imprint.

"Can't learn the Light Arts and nobody knows anything about the True Arts." Harry retorted. He privately wondered how the imprint knew of his fated foe, but decided that a Necromagus Elder was more than capable of enchanting a scroll to update its banks of knowledge.

"Don't be so sure about the plight of the True Arts, whippersnapper," scolded Aleister Greengrass's imprint. "What about that Flamel guy?"

XXXXX

Author's Note: You might notice that this chapter had several less-than-serious parts. I was in an odd mood as I typed this, and you'll have to forgive me if it distracts from the story.

The Hermetic language/poem is completely fabricated, as are the story of Trismegistus and the origins of the Core Arts. All credit to me (yay).

I said that the story doesn't follow the book's plot, but I put Umbridge and the week's worth of detentions in anyway. Call it a whim.

I know some people have been asking for longer chapters, but I think I'm comfortable with around this length. I suppose I'm the type of person who needs to constantly be updating. On the other hand, the lengths of my chapters has slowly been increasing, so maybe some of you will get your way soon!


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all related concepts and themes belong to J.K. Rowling, not me.

Thanks for reading, reviewing, and favorite-ing everyone.

Don't worry about offending me with criticism, as long as it is constructive :)

XXXXX

"You mean _Nicholas _Flamel?" Harry exclaimed.

"No, I meant his wife," snorted Aleister sarcastically. "I don't know if he actually possessed the True Arts, but he had six centuries of time to kill and he was certainly interested. Flamel would be worth a shot, at least."

"If only the Philosopher's Stone wasn't smashed," Harry sighed. "Do you know if he left any records of his work?"

"There's a chance that Flamel could have left an imprint like I did, but as far as I know, he never published any written work," Aleister answered.

"Wasn't Flamel really close with Dumbledore? Maybe he left something with him," Daphne mused.

"As I remember Flamel, he was rather secretive and protective of his work. I don't think he would've yielded all his research that easily," replied the Necromagus.

"Might as well start out in Dumbledore's office. We've got no better leads to follow anyway," Harry decided. "Let's go on Friday." They both said goodbye to Daphne's ancestor as he faded away and Daphne packed the scrolls up. After exiting the room, they both paused outside of the door.

"It's late, I'll walk you back to the dorms," Harry offered. Daphne raised an eyebrow.

"Don't think I can take care of myself?" Daphne accused.

Harry's heart froze. "No – I didn't mean –" he spluttered. The Slytherin girl burst into laughter.

"Relax, Harry. I know the difference between gallantry and condescension," she assured him. Harry smiled weakly as his heart resumed its usual beating, if a little faster than normal. The unusual pair walked in comfortable silence; both had been given much to think about. It was fortunate that the lateness of the hour made the halls relatively clear. If the two were spotted walking together, there was no doubt that the school would be ablaze with gossip the next day. Finally, they stopped at the dungeons.

"Thanks for walking me back, Harry," Daphne said as she fiddled with her silver and green tie.

"No problem," he replied. "I –" She stepped in and suddenly she was in his arms and he held her close and her alluring scent was all there was, but before he could think to do anything else, the embrace was broken.

"Good night, Harry." She turned and left.

XXXXX

Harry woke up the next morning and the events of last night flooded into his mind. He grinned from ear to ear, knowing that it was pathetic to feel so elated over a simple hug but choosing not to care.

His good mood lasted until he stepped into the frilly, laced nightmare that was the Defense against the Dark Arts classroom. Umbridge acted as vicious and lording as usual, getting drunk off the power she wielded as the High Inspector. Fortunately, most of her classes consisted of silent reading of Wilbert Slinkhard's atrociously flawed magical theories. While the text nearly put Harry to sleep, the general inactivity of the class resulted in very few opportunities for his temper to flare.

At night in the common room, Harry was surprised to see Hermione put her homework aside.

"Harry, you promised you'd show us what Flitwick told you," she stated expectantly.

"That I did," he replied. "Follow me." They headed to the Room of Requirement, where they found the Pensieve they needed. Harry extracted the silver fluid from his temple but chose not to enter the memory with his two companions. After a couple of minutes of viewing, Ron and Hermione lifted their heads.

"That was fascinating!" Hermione exclaimed. Ron nodded fervently. "I can't believe Hogwarts doesn't have any books about this. I'd like to learn a little more about those Hermetic tribes."

"I can't explain the reason, but anything you could research about their language specifically would be extremely helpful," said Harry. Hermione didn't bother to inquire; she'd gotten used to the many unknowns of her friend's life already.

"So you've got no leads at all on the Arts?" Ron asked.

"Well…again, I can't say. I swore an Unbreakable Vow and part of it demanded that I keep my information private. All I can tell you is that I've made a little progress, and there may be more to come soon," Harry responded. He felt bad about keeping his two best friends in the dark, but there was nothing he could do about it. Thankfully, it seemed that they understood and accepted his predicament.

"Seems like there's nothing we can do, then. Back to our moonstone essays?" Ron suggested.

"Sounds like a plan."

XXXXX

Harry wasn't quite sure on how he planned on getting into Dumbledore's office. His plan so far was to go to the gargoyle and start listing different candies until it opened. By the time he got to the statue he'd come up with no better ideas and Daphne was already waiting for him.

"Keeping a girl waiting again, Harry. Tsk tsk," she chided him. Harry grinned sheepishly.

"Got any ideas on getting in?" he asked.

"Not really, no," she replied.

"Only one thing left to do then," Harry declared. "Sugar quill! Every Flavor Beans! Peppermint Devil! Lemon drop!" Quickly cottoning onto his plan, Daphne muttered something under her breath that sounded like "_Gryffindors_" but joined in.

"Tooth-flossing string mints! Drooble's Best Blowing Gum!"

Several names later, the gargoyle swung open in the midst of "Blood pop!" "Cockroach Cluster!" and "Fever Fudge!". Daphne raised an eyebrow at Dumbledore's apparent strange taste in candy but declined to comment. Harry silently thanked the powers that be for Dumbledore's predictable pattern of passwords.

After ascending the stairs, Harry and Daphne stood in the entrance of the Headmaster's office. Portraits of past headmasters along the walls stared at the two quizzically. Harry figured that it was best not to seem like he was snooping around too much. He approached a wizened old witch and asked: "Excuse me, Headmistress. Would you happen to know if Dumbledore was keeping something that belonged to Nicholas Flamel in his office?"

The witch eyed him for a moment, then cackled and replied: "The Potter boy! I shouldn't think Dumbledore would mind if you fiddled around in his office for a bit. Who's your lovely friend?"

"Daphne Greengrass, madam," she said as she stepped forward.

"Oh? A Slytherin? You're more open-minded than I thought, Potter. Dumbledore always thought you'd go for the Weasley girl." Harry shifted uncomfortably and chanced a glance at Daphne's impressive poker face. "Anyway, back to your question, my boy. I don't know about any belongings of Nicholas Flamel but you could try asking his grandfather over there." The witch pointed to a portrait of a sleeping man with grizzled hair and bright blue robes. Harry wasn't quite sure how to wake a portrait up.

"Err…hello, sir?" he tried hesitantly. The man still slept soundly. Harry wondered if it was impolite to knock on a portraits frame, but after another couple of attempts at verbally rousing the man, did so anyway.

"Eh…wha? Who woke me up?" growled the portrait.

"I did, sir," Harry answered.

"Kids these days, no manners at all. Well, what is it that you want?"

"We were wondering whether your grandson had ever left any of his possessions or his work with Dumbledore," asked Harry.

"Hell, I don't know! You can ask him yourself," said the portrait. He turned toward the mansion in the background of the painting and yelled: "NICK! GET OUT HERE!" A man with long, sandy waves of hair made his way to the foreground of the painting.

"Grandpa I thought I told you that I was hiding," he hissed. The elder man smacked his grandson.

"Don't be rude in front of visitors. What happened to the manners my daughter taught you?" The sandy-haired man turned and addressed Harry and Daphne.

"Well, I suppose introductions are in order. I am Nicholas Flamel, and this is my grandfather Derwent Everard," he said.

"It's a pleasure to meet you both. I am Daphne Greengrass and this is Harry Potter," replied Daphne as she curtsied gracefully. Harry hurriedly bowed as he saw her sink into the curtsy. Everard's eyes widened in delight.

"Ah, finally somebody with etiquette! You be helpful to them now, Nick my boy," he exclaimed. Flamel rolled his eyes.

"So, you were looking for something of mine? I'm afraid that I left nothing in Dumbledore's possession," Flamel stated.

"Actually we were only looking for something because we thought you might've left behind records of your studies, but since you're here, we can ask you directly," Harry explained. "How far did you get in your research of the True Arts?"

"Oh? Has Binns finally started to incorporate the Core Arts into History of Magic?" Flamel asked, looking intrigued.

"Err, I don't think so. I wouldn't know, though. I'm not usually…conscious…in that class," Harry replied embarrassedly, wondering if he was about to receive a scolding.

Flamel chuckled appreciatively. "Binns had the same effect on me. Anyway, I was able to learn its basic principles but I was never able to master the Art." Harry and Daphne exchanged excited looks.

"Could you please teach me what you know, Mr. Flamel? Right now Voldemort is studying the Dark Arts and I need to be able to stop him," Harry pleaded.

"The little bugger who tried to steal my Stone? I'd be happy to help you squash him," Flamel responded with an evil grin. Daphne privately appreciated Flamel's sense of revenge. She wondered if he'd been a Slytherin during his time at Hogwarts. "But first, you'll need to get me out of this painting. Point your wand at me (make sure not to get my grandfather!) and say _Animatus Portra_ while twirling your wand in a circle." Harry did so, and to his surprise, successfully freed Flamel from his grandfather's portrait on his first try. The sandy-haired man stepped out of the portrait and examined his new body.

"Excellent, Potter. We'll go far with this rate of learning," Flamel said approvingly. "Now then, I shall attempt to explain the principles of the True Arts. Ms. Greengrass, you are welcome listen, as I will need your help with the instruction of Mr. Potter." Daphne nodded interestedly. "I'd like to start with a question. What do you two imagine when you think of the True Arts?"

"Spells that involve creating volcanoes, conjuring dragons, and triggering supernovas," Harry mused.

Daphne chipped in with: "Instant and unstoppable destruction."

Flamel roared with laughter. "Oh my, she's a vicious one, she is. But yes, these are generally the types of misconceptions that hang about the True Arts. Though the True Arts are capable of all this, the reality is they only contain seven distinct spells. You see, the True Arts represent magic at its deepest and most pure form. Every spell in existence is a lesser form of a True spell. The seven spells are Movement, Creation, Destruction, Enchantment, Alteration, Protection, and Absorption. They are all extremely difficult to master and I doubt that you'll be able to learn more than one by the end of the year."

"How do we get started?" Harry asked excitedly.

"We must train your sense of magic. You need to feel the ancient magic in the air, so I shall have Ms. Greengrass over here deprive you of your senses. By the way, ditch the wand, Potter. The seven spells of the True Arts are all wandless," Flamel commanded. "The Sensory Deprivation Curse is casted with a swift jabbing motion and the incantation _Perdelirus_. By the way, you should also cast a Full-Body Bind on him after; we don't want him accidentally gouging his eyes out or anything."

"Are you ready, Potter?" Daphne inquired as she raised her wand.

"Switching back to last names, are we?" Harry asked as he sat down with his legs crossed.

"I didn't want you feeling too familiar while I'm cursing you," she replied.

"Fair enough. Let's go," Harry said, closing his eyes.

"_Perdelirus!_" Daphne shouted as she stabbed her wand forcefully at Harry. A torrent of darkness shot out of her wand and engulfed him. The twisting maw felt sickeningly invasive, but only for a second, as Harry noticed his loss of feeling first. He had no doubt that the other four senses were gone as well, but the absence of touch was the most unfamiliar. Harry supposed that this was what death felt like: absolute nothingness. _I am alive._ He repeated this mantra in his head until he vaguely believed it. After suppressing the urge to panic, Harry remembered the task at hand. He concentrated on attempting to sense the ancient magic that Flamel had spoken of. After what seemed like an eternity, Harry's senses returned and he opened his eyes to see Daphne's worried gaze.

"Are you okay?" she asked.

"I've felt better," he answered honestly. Her look of concern was certainly helping the "better" part.

"Flamel told me to counter the curse after 30 minutes," she explained.

"It's not healthy to stay in the quasi-death states for too long. You can work on it for longer periods of time as you get used to it," said Flamel. Harry merely nodded weakly; exhaustion was setting in.

"Quasi-death?" Daphne exclaimed. Flamel shot her an impatient look.

"Yes, girl. Quasi-death. That's what death feels like to the conscious mind: an impenetrable void. I'm told that the Chinese use it most effectively in their torture regimens," he told them.

"I'll be fine, Daphne," Harry assured her when he noticed his friend's face looking even more distressed. Daphne was smart, but it was hard to grasp the ramifications of losing all five senses without having experienced the loss. "Thanks for the help, Mr. Flamel."

"Go get some rest, Potter. You'll need it; the first time is the worst. Don't come back until Monday," Flamel mandated. Harry struggled to stand up but found that he lacked the energy.

"Damn, this is embarrassing," he thought. Daphne grabbed him and draped his arm around her shoulders.

"Don't protest, Harry. We both know you aren't going anywhere like this,"  
she commanded.

"Thanks," he muttered tiredly. Daphne's scent was getting to him again and he wasn't sure if he'd be able to resist trying something possibly regrettable in this position for the whole walk back to the common room. He tried to make conversation to distract himself.

"So, where would you like to go tomorrow?" Harry asked.

"It's cheating to ask a girl those sort of questions, Mr. Potter," Daphne responded. "Though I'm sure Ginny Weasley would love to advise you on what girls like."

Harry glanced sideways at her before responding. She had a teasing smile on her face, but something told him that there was at least a little bit of seriousness to the remark. He turned his head so that he could look at her head-on. "The only girl who I want to answer that question is you."

She stopped turned as well. Her gray-green eyes gazed into the bottle-green ones. "The Three Broomsticks, then," she said quietly. Thoughts were dancing chaotically in Harry's mind. They were alone in the stairwell and their faces were far too close. Her lips looked soft and inviting in the dim torchlight. Harry felt a sudden chill and Daphne jumped at the unexpected change in temperature, sending Harry tumbling down the stairs. A sleeping ghost had lazily drifted through both of them, oblivious to the ruckus he'd caused.

"Oh Harry, I'm so sorry!" Daphne cried. Harry mentally cursed the ghost, fate, the stairs, and anything else he could think of.

"Don't worry about it, I'll be fine," he tried to assure her. Nevertheless, she looked unconvinced. She picked him back up and they resumed their walk in silence. Harry soon noticed that they weren't on a path to the Gryffindor common room.

"Err –" he was about ask, but Daphne cut him off.

"We're going to the Hospital Wing." Harry knew better than to protest when he saw the determined look in her eyes. As soon as they entered Madam Pomfrey began fussing over him.

"Can't stop doing dangerous things, can you, Mr. Potter?" she admonished.

"Madam, it was my –" It was Harry's turn to interrupt.

"I guess I can't help being drawn to trouble," he declared, looking Daphne in the eyes. She blushed.

"I'll whip up some tonics but in the meantime, you'll have to leave, Ms. Greengrass. My patient needs his rest," Madam Pomfrey ordered. "Don't worry, he'll be right as rain tomorrow morning." Daphne walked over and drew Harry into another breathless hug, then left. Harry wiped the smile off his face to swallow some steaming draughts and soon fell into a deep sleep.

XXXXX

Author's Note: Well this one came a bit slower than the others did. I blame my job and some other very interesting fan fics that I couldn't stop reading.

Also _The Human Centipede_ (it's a movie) recently came into my possession and I suspect that after I watch it, I will be too grossed out to do anything. So my next update may be a little late as well.

I am considering switching the rating to "T". I set it on "M" originally because I wanted to write in some smut, but now that this story is progressing, the temptation for smuttiness is decreasing. Still, I'd like to try my hand at writing some smut at some point. Maybe it'll come in a different story. Anyway, I think I will make my decision soon, but feel free to influence me in your reviews.


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: Still don't own Harry Potter, but I suppose this is a good way to start the chapter. I'm a creature of habit :)

Again, thanks for reading, reviewing, and following

I have decided to stick with the M rating. There will probably be some smut eventually.

As a follow-up to the Author's Note last chapter, I did end up watching _The Human Centipede_. It was fairly disgusting at some parts but otherwise a boring movie. Not worth the time.

XXXXX

Harry's eyes opened reluctantly to see a blur of brown and red. After blinking groggily and putting his glasses on, he saw Ron and Hermione sitting by his bed.

"Honestly Harry, I don't understand how you manage to land yourself here so often," Hermione said with an exasperated look.

"I'm okay, thanks for asking. And good morning," Harry replied irritably.

"Don't be such a grouch, let's go get some food. Breakfast is going to end in 20 minutes," Ron suggested. Harry worked his way off the bed and looked at himself in the mirror.

"I think I'll take a shower. You guys go on without me, I'm not hungry anyways," he insisted. With a shrug, Ron stood up and motioned for Hermione to come with him.

"Are you sure, Harry?" she asked.

"Yea, I'm fine." They left and Harry made his way to his dormitory. After his shower, he hesitated in front of the drawers. He finally threw on a white V-neck shirt that Hermione had convinced him to buy ("it's fashionable, Harry"), a pair of dark blue jeans, and a black field jacket. Harry thought (hoped) that he looked good without seeming like he was trying too hard. As he walked down into the common room, Hermione looked up and saw him.

"Oh? When did you get a fashion sense, Harry?" she asked with a grin.

"Since you started telling me what to buy." Hermione laughed.

"So where are we going today? I think I'd like to stop by Dervish and Banges first," said Hermione.

"Err, actually I can't go to Hogsmeade with you guys today. I've got…plans," Harry admitted uncomfortably.

"With who?" Ron exclaimed.

"A friend," Harry answered vaguely. Ron and Hermione were his best friends, but he was pretty sure they wouldn't understand about Daphne, as he'd never mentioned her to them before.

"Well that explains the outfit, at least. Is your date with Luna?" Hermione inquired.

"What?" Harry was thrown by the unexpected question. "No, no it's not."

"Pity. I always thought you two would be a great couple," Hermione mused. Harry and Ron gaped at her.

"I should go."

XXXXX

Harry arrived several minutes earlier than the time they'd agreed on, but he was determined not to make Daphne wait on him again. The downside to his plan was that he now had to stand awkwardly by himself until she came. A couple of minutes and many questioning glances later, the beautiful blonde girl arrived.

"Glad to see you've learned, Harry." Harry knew he should reply but the vision in front of him left him speechless. Daphne looked resplendent in a snug red sweater and slim jeans that accentuated her firm, athletic curves. Harry took a moment to curse the baggy robes that served as the Hogwarts uniform.

"Harry?"

"Ah sorry, I was just…" he trailed off.

"You look nice too." Harry felt himself reddening. _Busted_. By this time the Hall was filled with murmurs and glances in their direct ion.

"Let's go, shall we?" Daphne took his offered arm and they started down the picturesque path down to Hogsmeade.

"So what did you say to the other two members of the trio?"

"When I told them that I made plans, they didn't press me too hard for details."

"Ah, more secrecy from Hogwartses' resident man of mystery." Harry laughed.

"Is that what they're calling me now? I always fancied myself an attention seeking liar, but man of mystery will do."

"Glad to see you're handling the Prophet's hate crusade well."

"After having people switch between hating, fearing, and worshipping you for years, you get used to it." Daphne adopted a serious tone for a moment.

"I know it's unfair. You deserve better."

"And that's why Tracey forced us into this date." Daphne showed her appreciation of his words with a dazzling smile.

"I'll have to thank her for that later."

Harry supposed that autumn had come early this year. A crisp breeze swept across their faces and they were both glad to step into the cozy warmth of the Three Broomsticks. Harry led her to a small table in the corner. Madame Rosmerta soon swung by to take their orders.

"Two butterbeers, please," Harry said politely before quickly returning his attention to the girl across from him. Daphne raised an eyebrow, apparently impressed with his ability to ignore the curvaceous and attractive barmaid. Harry had seen Ron and Hermione bicker here far too often to fall into that trap. After their drinks arrived, Daphne spoke up again.

"You know, I don't come here often."

"Oh? Why?"

"I tend to scare people, I think. Tracey is my only close friend, besides you of course. A lot of the time she goes off somewhere with her boyfriend and it'd just be depressing to come here alone."

"Well, I'd be happy to escort you here in the future," he offered. Harry wondered if he was being too forward.

"I might just take you up on that offer," Daphne replied, flashing him that enchanting grin again. The rest of the date continued in a similar fashion, with Harry and Daphne both knocking back butterbeers while exchanging occasionally flirtatious conversation, except for two interruptions.

The first of which was in the form of an arrogant blonde Slytherin. His hair was slicked back so tightly that it looked painful. He strutted his way into the Three Broomsticks looking down his nose at all the customers until his gaze wandered to Harry and Daphne's corner. After a brief look of confusion and anger, Malfoy swaggered over to their table.

"Oh how the mighty have fallen. Couldn't find a pureblood willing to have you, eh, Greengrass?" he sneered. Harry's hand lingered dangerously close to his wand.

"Couldn't find a girl willing to have _you_, Malfoy? Is that why you're always with Crabbe and Goyle?" Harry fired back. The surrounding students roared with laughter. Malfoy's face flushed red and he went for his wand, but Harry's was out far earlier.

"Not so fast, Malfoy." Malfoy froze, but his two cronies continued to go for their wands.

"Move your hands one inch closer to your wands and I will literally blast both your bollocks off," Daphne hissed icily, her wand pointing in the direction that she'd threatened. Harry had never been so simultaneously intimidated by and attracted to a girl before. The three Slytherin bullies slinked off to lick their wounds and plot their revenge.

The second interruption had been in a less openly hostile form. It seemed that Ron and Hermione had decided to go to Hogsmeade even without their best friend, and as they strode through the door together, Harry braced himself for Ron's lack of social tact.

"Harry! What are you doing…with _her_?" Ron exclaimed. Daphne, who'd been so friendly and open with Harry, withdrew into her usual frosty demeanor at the unwelcome intrusion. Hermione looked like she wanted to smack her companion.

"Is there a problem, Weasley?" Daphne asked coolly.

"No, he was just surprised. That's all. Sorry," Hermione interjected, muffling Ron before he could say anything else.

"It's fine."

"So, what have you two been up to?" Harry inquired hastily, hoping to break the palpable tension.

"We've just been wandering around. Ron wanted to stop by Zonko's and I got some pretty socks from Dervish and Banges," Hermione replied. The conversation turned pretty awkward afterwards, as Daphne's expression didn't thaw and Ron was too dumbfounded by Harry's date to speak. Hermione, seeing the writing on the wall, dragged Ron out the door, mouthing: "_we'll talk later"_.

"Interesting company you keep, Harry," Daphne said drily.

"He'll grow on you," he replied. "Hopefully." Daphne laughed and returned to the smiling, teasing girl whom Harry had become so fond of.

A little after the second interruption ended, people began to clear out. When Harry and Daphne were almost the last people there, he reluctantly suggested: "Shall we head back?"

"I suppose so," Daphne replied, looking equally sad that the day had flown by so quickly. When they got outside, the sky was dark and the night air was chilly enough to make them shiver. Whether he was emboldened by the success of the date or the pleasant buzz of the butterbeer, Harry wrapped his arm around Daphne's shoulders, feeling the soft warmth of her sweater. She snuggled in close to him and they started their walk up the path to Hogwarts. The path was lined with quaint lamps, providing an antiquated incandescent feel to the surroundings. Harry had never been much of a romantic, but the warm glow of the lamps combined with the gentle kiss of the cool air and the rhythm of Daphne's breath put him in the mood to do crazy things. Daphne gave a surprised yelp as Harry swept her off the ground and carried her all the way back to Hogwarts, blonde hair rippling through the night. She wrapped her arms around Harry's neck and whispered her pleasure at the arrangement into his ear.

Once they were back in the Great Hall, Harry was shocked to see that they only had five minutes before curfew.

"No need to walk me back Harry, as much as I'd enjoy it," Daphne assured him.

"But I'm not sure if you can take care of yourself," Harry mockingly protested. He was rewarded with a gentle laugh.

"What can I do to soothe your worries?" Daphne inquired with a coquettish grin.

"Oh…I don't know…" Harry felt himself leaning in.

"I'm not sure if I like your attitude, Mr. Potter," she whispered, and finally they were kissing, her soft lips readily meeting his. Daphne's body tingled as she arched her back instinctively, pressing her body ever more tightly against Harry's as the boy, who thought he felt static running through his being, savored her passion and her taste while running one hand through Daphne's long blonde tresses, the other hand wrapped tightly around the small of her back. After what seemed like an eternity of blissful contact, the two separated.

"We should do this again sometime," Daphne breathed.

"You mean the date or the –"

"Both."

XXXXX

Harry entered the common room. He was not quite sure how he'd gotten back; everything seemed to be a blur after they kissed and said good night. Harry then noticed that Ron and Hermione had waited up for him.

"So, how was the date?" Hermione asked.

"Fantastic," was all he could get out. Ron grinned.

"Did you…you know…?" Harry wasn't sure how to respond to the question. He knew that it wasn't gentlemanly to kiss and tell, but part of him wanted to say yes just so that he could relive the moment in his mind again. Fortunately, Hermione took the decision out of his hands.

"Of course he did. Look at his face," she stated with a mischievous smile. Harry accepted defeat and nodded. Ron burst into laughter, pumping his fists and shaking his head. Hermione shot him an annoyed look and continued her questioning.

"How did the date happen?"

Harry explained about Daphne's ancestor and the Vow he'd been required to swear, though not going too far in-depth as to tread lightly around the rules of the Vow. Hermione chuckled a little.

"That Tracey Davis has always been a sneaky one. I'm glad that you two made the best of it. Are you and Daphne a couple now?"

"Err, come to think about it, I have no idea," Harry replied. "I should probably go clear that up with her later. I did promise her another date, though." Hermione looked rather surprised at Harry's shortage of incompetence.

"Well done, Harry."

XXXXX

Daphne stumbled into her dormitory in a daze. Her head was still swimming with thoughts of the green-eyed boy and their first kiss. Not noticing the questioning looks her best friend was throwing her, Daphne sunk onto the bed with a delirious grin.

"So, that good, huh?"

"Thanks."

"Hmm?"

"I told myself I'd thank you later. Though if you forced me into a date with anybody but him I would be hexing your brains out by now," Daphne explained, recovering enough sense to speak sensibly.

"He's that special, eh?" Tracey giggled, brown eyes shining with mirth.

"Not. Answering."

"How far did you two go?"

"Once again, not answering."

"Hey I got you this date. You owe me," Tracey reminded her. Daphne sighed in defeat.

"Fine, we kissed, alright?" Tracey squealed and started doing a victory dance.

"I KNEW IT! My eyes never deceive me!" she cackled. "Tell me all about it!"

Daphne explained the day's events as Tracey grinned (at Harry's comments), scowled (at Malfoy's and Ron's interruptions), and widened her eyes (at Daphne's enthusiastic description of the kiss).

"Aww…you two are so cute. I wish Dylan would say those sorts of things to me, but no, all he does is tell me about how he thinks I'm almost as awesome as fried chicken." Daphne burst into laughter. "Anyway, enough about me and Dylan. Are you and Harry together now?"

"I don't really know."

XXXXX

Gossip had finished percolating throughout the school by the time Harry got to breakfast. He was the subject of even more stares than usual. Harry wasn't sure if it was his fame or Daphne's reputation that made the coupling so gossip-worthy to his schoolmates, but he tried to ignore them as he ate. Fred and George swung by to congratulate him on landing what they described as "the hottest witch in your year". A pair of arms wrapped loosely around Harry's neck.

"You know, you're not really helping this gossip situation."

"It's a cross I'll have to bear."

"This is the first time I've seen you at breakfast."

"I slept well." Harry leaned back to see Daphne's wry grin. Her silvery-blonde hair fell gently into Harry's face, as she leaned.

"Would you like to go for a walk by the lake this afternoon?" he asked.

"I'd love to." Daphne dipped her head to bring her lips down to Harry's for a quick upside-down kiss. Harry could only stare as she walked gracefully away, hips swaying attractively under loose black robes. He thought he heard Seamus whisper "Damnnnn".

XXXXX

Harry and Daphne sat by the edge of the lake, tossing food at the appreciative giant squid.

"How did you know that the squid likes chicken legs dipped in strawberry jam?" Daphne asked idly.

"Luna Lovegood showed me," Harry replied as he threw another leg. The squid snaked a tentacle out like lightning and caught the leg midair. It honked appreciatively. "I didn't know squids honked," Harry mused to himself.

Daphne eyed one of the chicken legs. "I wonder if this actually tastes good?"

"Some mysteries are better left unsolved."

"I hope you don't consider yourself one of those mysteries, because I fully intend on solving you."

"Oh? Is that a challenge? I'm afraid you're chasing Snorkacks, my dear." Daphne raised an eyebrow questioningly. "It's an expression," Harry added hastily.

"Am I really _your_ dear?" Daphne didn't let her face betray her turbulent emotions as Harry pondered his answer.

"Only if you want to be." Harry kept himself perfectly still as Daphne slowly slid closer and drew her lips to his. Fireworks burst into being in Harry's mind as he was drawn deeper and deeper into the kiss. Once they broke apart, with the sensation still lingering on both their lips, Harry spoke: "I'll take that as a yes."

XXXXX

Author's Note: Yea this chapter was pure fluff/romance. It felt right. Sorry to people who were hoping for Harry to increase his prowess in the True Arts. I promise the next chapter will be chock-full of such things.

I think the fluffy/romantic parts of the chapter will have readers wondering about me. For the record, I AM MALE (sorry to any feminists I offend).

Don't forget to review, lovelies! (I still promise I'm male. And straight.)


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: The usual. Harry Potter and his smooth romantic ways in no way belong to me.

Random note: When I was flying home from my relatives' house, I got stopped by security because the squash my grandma was making me bring apparently looked like a bomb in the X-Ray. Fuck yea.

Note to Nancy: There is some content in here that is not smut but is very…physical. I actually felt uncomfortable typing this, knowing you'll be reading it. Perhaps you should skip this chapter. But if I know you like I think I do, you'll probably just read it and laugh/judge me. Have fun.

XXXXX

Harry once again sat down in Dumbledore's office. Daphne reluctantly drew her wand and prepared to curse her boyfriend.

"A full hour this time," Flamel ordered. Harry nodded.

"_Perdelirus!_"

Though the time was doubled this time, when the curse was lifted, Harry felt marginally better than he did the last time. Daphne kindly ceased biting her lip worriedly long enough to drag him up and out of the office.

The months passed fairly uneventfully. Flamel subjected Harry to quasi-death increasingly and mercilessly. Soon enough, only classes, homework, and Daphne prevented Harry from training the whole day. Harry drifted his way through classes, only paying attention in Transfiguration due to McGonagall's strict glares and in Defense Against the Dark Arts if Fred and George had managed to devise a particularly entertaining prank on Umbridge. Their last one had involved liberal use of skin-contact Canary Creams and as a result, Umbridge had begun wearing full-body suits under her robes. There were rumors that Fred and George planned on incorporating Muggle explosives into their next designs.

Harry's tolerance for the Sensory Deprivation Curse wasn't the only fruit of his lessons in Dumbledore's office. He gradually began to feel the coursing of the deep magic in the air. At first, Harry was unsure if he truly felt it or not. He thought he might've been imagining the veins of color surging through the air, but as his lessons progressed, the strains of magic became ever stronger. After managing to fully perceive the ancient magic, Harry began to sense less potent magic as well. His own magic gradually came became visible, a golden aura emanating from all over his body. Daphne's was an interesting shade of gray tinged with green. Just as snow was starting to fall, Flamel decided that Harry's sixth sense was developed enough to move onto greener pastures.

"Now that you can perceive the streams of deep magic flowing through the air, I want you to try to touch each of them with your aura." Harry willed his magic to extend and reach out. For the first four streams he tried, Harry found his tendril repelled with varying degrees of strength. But finally, on the fifth try, his aura meshed briefly with the coursing flow of magic.

"Ah, it seems that you are most compatible with Creation. This is most interesting. You will, in due time, learn all seven spells, of course. But for now, if we want to prepare you to be combat-ready within a year, we shall have to stick with one. Now, you must use your magic to tame the wild magic. Do not attempt to overpower it, simply create a funnel to direct it. Since True magic requires no movements, incantations, or wand, you must simply will your intents in place. I suggest that you start with trying to create an object that you are familiar with. The more real it is in your mind, the more easily it will be formed."

Harry started off slowly, but progressed quickly. His initial failures showed his inability to focus his thoughts on one object, which was corrected by Daphne's sultry whispers about the wonders that could happen inside a broom closet. Harry's first success was, in fact, a broom closet. Daphne was so pleased that she dragged him inside to give his new creation a "test ride". Flamel politely averted his eyes and ignored the passionate moans and occasional thumps until the couple stepped out with ruffled hair and disheveled robes.

"Ahem, so, Harry, though they may not be as…enjoyable as those of Ms. Greengrass, I'd like to offer my congratulations as well, on your first successful use of Creation," Flamel announced. Harry blushed and tried his best to look ashamed, but his sloppy grin and skewed glasses resulted in utter failure. "In the future months, as you get used to wielding your new powers, we shall work on adapting them for use in battle. Take some time off so I can find you a dueling partner. Though I am more than confident in Ms. Greengrass's capabilities, I'm concerned that you'll be reluctant to cast so much as a Stinging Hex at her." Daphne didn't look offended; she merely squeezed Harry and nodded understandingly.

XXXXX

Harry divided his free time between practicing Creation and Daphne. Though movements were unnecessary for channeling the magic, Harry felt more comfortable at least using arm gestures to help his focus. He focused on forming more battle-oriented Creations, such as massive granite walls, spears of ice, and balls of fire. Since he only knew one True spell, Harry still had to rely on a bit of normal magic. He searched through several library books until he finally found two spells suited for his style: the Homing Spell and the Repulsion Spell. The Homing Spell forced all the random projectiles he made to focus on one target (an unfortunate dummy in the Room of Requirement), while the Repulsion Spell expelled every object around him in all directions. Harry figured that those two spells, combined with Creation, would cover all his bases. While fighting hordes of Death Eaters and Merlin knows what else, Harry could Create an array of deadly objects and Repulse them all away from him. He planned to use the Homing Spell on Voldemort. The useful part of Creation was that though the workings of the art required keen focus, the fact that Harry was relying on external magic made his Creations cost less to his magic than a simple _Lumos_ did.

Harry was also surprised to see Daphne blast away some of his walls with furiously charged spells that he'd never seen before.

"What? You didn't expect me to just sit around the whole time while you were being tortured, did you?"

"Merlin, that's hot." Daphne laughed and flashed him a devilish smile.

"Power is sexy, Harry." The Room of Requirement suddenly filled with enormous blocks of stone. Daphne flicked her wand and blasted a hole into the nearest block. Harry waved his hand and a massive hammer appeared above the block and crushed it. They exchanged feral grins after kissing and began raining destruction upon the blocks. While Daphne was stuck to blasting, cutting, and incinerating, Harry was free to play around with endless means of chaos. He Created fireballs hot enough to melt the blocks and actually blasted one to pieces with a lightning bolt. When the room was left with nothing but charred and smashed debris, Daphne gave Harry a hungry look.

"I think I need to reward you for that lightning bolt, Harry." She dove on him and snogged him mercilessly, mouth open and tongue writhing wildly. By the time they stopped for breath, Daphne's shirt was off and one bra strap was hanging loosely off her shoulder.

"And how could I call myself a gentleman if I didn't show you how much your rather magnificent Incineration Curse pleased me?" Harry rolled them over and he kissed her neck fiercely, eliciting groans of pleasure. They concluded their activities only when Daphne had calmed down enough to remind Harry of curfew. Once they were both fully clothed, Harry looked at Daphne and grinned. He Created a mirror for her to look in.

"Well, these love bites may pose a problem." With a wave of his hand, Harry produced a plaid gray and green scarf. Daphne gave him a swift peck on the cheek. "Thanks, darling."

As Harry practiced his skills, he found that he could successfully Create objects that he had a lesser understanding of. Hopefully, by the time he mastered the ability, he could just imagine something up and will it into existence. Harry vaguely fantasized about summoning a giant killer death lizard with laser eyes, robot legs, and Snorkack horns to crush Voldemort mercilessly and eat his remains.

Finally, after weeks of practicing and snogging (and practicing while snogging), the Fat Lady spoke to Harry not to ask for a password, but to inform.

"An anonymous source would like to ask you to report to the Headmaster's office tonight."

"Did the source mention anything about…my lady friend?"

"It just said to do as usual."

XXXXX

Harry and Daphne arrived in Dumbledore's office together to find a tall man with long black hair in an imposing trench coat.

"Greetings, students. I am Number Eight," he said.

"Harry, Daphne, Number Eight is a member of the magical assassin's guild called The Organization," Flamel clarified. "He has agreed to be your teacher."

"Ah, it's a pleasure to meet you," Harry said to the man.

"Likewise," Number Eight replied curtly. "Let us begin the lesson. First, we shall duel. I shall refrain from using lethal spells, but feel no need to do me the same courtesy." Number Eight waved his wand and Dumbledore's office expanded wide enough to give them ample dueling room. With a flick of his wand the man also created a glass barrier to keep Daphne and the portraits safe. Harry looked at the glass uncertainly.

"The glass will hold. Try it." Harry shot off the strongest _Reducto_ that he had but it failed to make a scratch. He wondered if he could replicate that barrier in his Creations. "Now, come at me, Potter. Do your worst." The man held his wand in front of him but made no move to defend himself otherwise. Harry started off with a Stunner, which the man shielded easily.

"I remember asking you not to hold back on me, Potter. Restraint in the arena is disrespectful at best." Harry nodded and began again. He used his left hand to Create an array of fireballs, ice shards, and steel needles. With the Homing Spell, he sent the objects flying at Number Eight. The man shielded them all with a nonverbal spell and shot several evil-looking curses, which Harry dodged.

"I suppose non-lethal means anything that will leave me with a heartbeat," he thought to himself. Harry tried Creating again, only this time he produced only a massive fireball, which he launched at the man. The man looked prepared to shield again, but Harry was ready for that. He Created methane around the man, and though he prevented the fireball from hitting his being, flames touched the methane and it combusted in an enormous explosion around the assassin. Harry briefly worried, but then a jet of red light flew out of the smoke and caught him straight in the chest.

"Impressive, Potter, but never let your guard down. What was that expression again? Ah, right…CONSTANT VIGILANCE!" The man revived Harry and faced him again. "I'm an assassin, not a teacher. You shall learn your lessons through experience, not lecture. Now face me again." Harry took a moment to shake his limbs loose, then Created once more. He brought forth stone spikes from the ground, while conjuring the gargantuan hammer he'd used on the blocks before. Harry also shot several Stunners in the man's general direction. Number Eight wandlessly disintegrated the hammer with a Reductor while simultaneously blasting the spikes away. Lastly he efficiently stepped to the side of the Stunners and flicked his wand, transfiguring six fragments of the hammer into six wolves, which dashed at Harry, jaws snapping voraciously.

Harry impaled the wolves with the same spike technique that had failed on Number Eight. He dodged two spells but the man's casting was too rapid. Harry was forced to try to shield Number Eight's Reductor. The curse smashed through Harry's shield and tore into his chest.

Daphne gasped and tried to go to him, but the barrier had no exits. Flamel laid a hand on her shoulder to calm her.

"He'll live. Number Eight is not a man who cannot control his strength."

The raven-haired man strode over to Harry's still figure, ran his wand over him, withdrew a potion from his coat, and poured it down Harry's throat. Harry slowly got up, coughing and choking as he rose. Number Eight looked at him without pity in his eyes.

"You should have Created a wall to stop that curse. Remember that the True spell of Creation is your most powerful magic at this moment. Again, Potter."

After Harry had been injured and healed in various ways several more times, Number Eight decided that enough was enough.

"Our lesson is concluded for today, Potter. Dwell over your shortcomings and meet me here again tomorrow." Number Eight vanished in a swirl of black smoke.

"I thought Apparition – at Hogwarts – oh, whatever," Harry exclaimed. He saw that the office had returned to its normal proportions and that the barrier disappeared as well. As Daphne walked with Harry back to the common rooms, she couldn't help but to express curiosity at Harry's pensive visage.

"Harry?" she tried. "What's on your mind?"

"Just today's lesson."

"Oh, don't worry. You were great out there. The man's a professional assassin, for Merlin's sake!"

"Yea, I know. I'm actually wondering how much it costs to hire his guild. He said he was Number Eight, so there are at least seven more wizards just like him! Imagine Voldemort trying to fight off eight of him…"

"Harry, you're drooling."

"Sorry."

XXXXX

Harry's days continued smoothly. During the day he'd read up on objects he could attempt to use against Number Eight. At night, the assassin would prove how inconsequential his Creations were and would usually curse or hex the snot of him. The man called it "negative reinforcement". Harry took that to mean that should he succeed in not getting hit, the lack of pain would be its own reward. Harry ended up borrowing more heavily from pop culture than he did from any books he read. He tried out an enchanced-gravity field, which did earn an impressed grunt from Number Eight before the man simply levitated himself. Another attempt involved his own rendition of the Loch Ness monster. Sadly, the beast was disintegrated with a very powerful Reductor. Harry failed to see how Number Eight was not using deadly force now; surely a spell that can obliterate an enormous lake monster can also kill a teenager. Finally, however, Number Eight approached him at the end of one lesson and said: "You have improved, Potter. In our future lessons I will use the Unforgivables and my darker curses." Harry gulped. "However, I shall be away for a week. I have been assigned to a rather pricey target and I intend to take my time before killing him. Use this time to practice on your own. I shall measure your progress when I return."

XXXXX

Author's Note: Finally! Somehow, this chapter took me awhile to write. It was harder to get the ball rolling on it. Also, as you may notice, it is a bit shorter. I blame life.

Also, school is starting for me (I'm still in high school. Blarg). I don't think that I'll have time to write as much during the school year, but we'll see. Updates will definitely be a lot slower. If the year is particularly hard, I may have to put the story on hiatus until I finish my college applications.

Anyway, no point in being all gloom-and-doom when the year hasn't even started yet. Who knows, maybe my teachers will take it easy! Actually I'm fairly certain that my crazy Russian Physics teacher doesn't even know the definition of "easy". At least I'll have a good time thinking up Soviet Russia jokes in his class. "In Soviet Russia, velocity calculates you!" Okay I admit that was lame. There shall be better ones.


	7. Chapter 7

Disclaimer: Harry Potter does not belong to me and blahblahblah JK Rowling

Again, thanks for reading/reviewing/whatever you're doing around my story.

Responding to reviews: I really don't feel like pulling up individual reviews and addressing them, so I'm just going to cram all my responses into one paragraph. If you have reviewed, read through and see if I've answered your concerns. Anyways, I know that I'm rushing this story. The last chapter especially so. There are two reasons for that. The first is that I actually did not start this story with any set plot in mind. I basically make it up as I write. Any event that happens is purely based on my whims. The second reason is that I imagine that school will become fairly hectic soon and I want to be able to tie up the story without leaving it on hiatus until I get into college (which will be December, at the earliest. Please, Williams…). I think that if I choose to write another story after this, it will definitely be better planned out. About plot holes: when I find the time, I will go back and edit those chapters to fix them. In the meantime, just accept my "does not follow canon" excuse and keep an open mind :)

Oh, also I am not purposefully drawing from Warcraft or D&D lore. I have never played or read anything about D&D, though I have played some Warcraft (I mostly own the game to play Dota). If anything, I was drawing the description of the Necromagi from Diablo 2, but adapting the bone theme and other parts to the Harry Potter world. However, I will try not to copy the Diablo 2 spells into my story. That'd just be too predictable.

Onto the story, then. Sorry if you reviewed and I forgot to address your concern. I'm a very forgetful man.

XXXXX

Harry collapsed on his bed. He was mentally exhausted from stretching the limits of his abilities so far. Harry had, with the help of Daphne, scoured the Hogwarts Library and Dumbledore's own private library for possible inspirations for his workings. He had used his powers to Create ancient magical relics he barely knew of. The unfamiliarity of the Creations was fatiguing, but Harry could feel the strain decreasing. His enemy – err, teacher – would return in two days and there was no way that Harry would continue to allow himself to be so easily trounced. Sleep blissfully claimed him, as his chaotic thoughts slowly faded into dreams.

As far as Harry could see, there was tan-green everywhere. On closer inspection, the sea of tan-green was composed of tiny pellets in a bean shape. He felt a faint rocking motion beneath him. "What is it with me and this dream?" Harry wondered. He took great care to memorize the image of the Crumple-Horned Snorkack he was riding. Could Pensieves recall memories of dreams? Luna probably go crazy…well, crazier, if he showed her the memory. The sea of booger-flavored beans shook and Harry was thrown off the Snorkack. He did his best not to let any of the beans into his mouth as he sunk into the mass…

Another rumble and Harry awoke to find that he'd fallen off his bed. "What in the world is going on…" he muttered as he swiftly robed. Harry opened his trunk and withdrew the Marauder's Map. "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good." Harry's eyes narrowed. Lucius Malfoy and several other Death Eater names he recognized were in front of the Hufflepuff common room. No doubt they'd chosen that house for its known abundance of Muggleborns. Harry made his way down to the common room to find his fellow Gryffindors up and about.

"What's going on?" seemed to be the universal question.

"Death Eaters," Harry said quietly. Nonetheless, everybody seemed to have heard him. The noise level increased as the murmurs grew more fearful. Harry could have smacked himself. It was far too early to be diplomatic with the frightened masses.

"How did they get in?" Hermione was panicking.

"Fight now, ask later. You and Ron go get the teachers. They're attacking the Hufflepuff dorms. I'll head them off."

"Harry you can't just –" Harry ignored the rest of Hermione's warning as he rushed out of the common room and donned his Invisibility Cloak. There was no way that he was going to bring his friends into the danger with him. He ran through the passages until he happened upon twelve masked figures in black robes firing spells at the Hufflepuff dorm's portrait. Harry recognized the feel of the spell as the Drilling Spell. He whipped off his cloak and Created four massive obelisks around him and the Death Eaters. A field of magic surrounded them. Mordred's Four Betrayals were ancient artifacts that Harry had found in some texts from the Restricted Section. They prevented any sort of escape until their activator was overcome. Though Harry would've preferred to have the element of surprise, he knew that he needed to keep the Death Eaters from getting into the Hufflepuff dorms and that this was the most surefire way.

"Potter!" Lucius Malfoy exclaimed with his trademark sneer. "Take him alive, remember that the Dark Lord wishes to personally dispose of him." The Death Eaters began volleying curses at Harry. A glass barrier identical to the one that Number Eight had used before rose up and blocked the spellfire. With another wave of his hand, Harry Created several floating balls of junk metal on the Death Eaters' side of the barrier. With his teeth gritted, Harry steeled himself and roared: "_Confringo!_"

The Death Eaters saw the metal appear and the smarter ones sensed trouble. They tried to Portkey away, only to find that their means of escape had been nullified. Explosions rocked the area inside Mordred's Four Betrayals and shrapnel spikes whistled through the air, eliciting shrieks of pain as they ripped through the Death Eaters' magical shields and into their bodies. Only Lucius Malfoy had the insight to conjure a stone barrier rather than a spell shield. Harry had debated the ethics of this tactic before. On one hand, it was extremely effective and did not tax Harry's energy too much. On the other hand, the flying metal could potentially be lethal. In the end, Daphne managed to settle the argument for him.

"Harry you know that Stunning is useless. One simple Enervate repairs any damage you could've caused. If you want to have any chance of winning this war, you need to be able to put them down in a more permanent fashion. You will have to kill. You won't want to, nor should you. Yet the smart side, the Slytherin side to you knows that each Death Eater you put down is many potential innocent lives saved."

Harry's thoughts flipped back to the present. Now that Malfoy was the only Death Eater standing, Daphne's rationalizations no longer made sense. Harry knew that he had to take him alive. He dissolved the barrier and fired off several Stunners. Lucius Malfoy was shielded them effortlessly and attempted to pin him down with a variety of different Transfigurations and curses. It figured that someone as ruthless as Malfoy wouldn't be fazed by the sudden incapacitation of all his comrades. Harry nimbly dodged the plethora of threats. _I never thought I'd be thankful that I spent my childhood dodging Dudley's punches all the time_. He suppressed a scream as a Cutting Curse he hadn't dodged fast enough ripped into his side. His resultant flinch allowed a Bludgeoning curse to slam into his arm. _Probably broken_. Harry could feel his movements slowing. He hadn't rested enough to recover from the strain of yesterday's training and his injuries would only make things worse. _I've got to end this fast_.

"Tiring, Potter?" Malfoy taunted. Harry ignored him. _Think…what can keep him down without killing him?_ "I never thought you'd use such a lethal attack, Potter. Perhaps you chose the wrong side in this war." More jets of evil-looking light burst out from Malfoy's wand. Harry's mind finally clicked on the solution he needed.

Lucius Malfoy cackled as he tossed spell after spell at the Boy Who Lived. He didn't need those incompetent buffoons who shamed the name of Death Eater anyway. He felt a slight chill emanating from the ground. Lucius Malfoy chanced a glance to see that, to his horror, spires of ice were swiftly growing from the ground all around him. He tried to cast _Incendio_ but the ice completely encased him before he could utter the last syllables.

Harry tentatively stared at his handiwork for several minutes, still in a defensive stance. Though he knew that his spelled ice should be more than capable of containing someone of Malfoy's power level, he still wasn't quite sure whether the Death Eater would have a few more tricks up his sleeve. Finally, Harry relaxed and started levitating the bodies of the fallen Death Eaters into the center of the room. He winced; three definitely dead, two maybe dead, but the rest might be saved. Upon releasing the magic of the obelisks, Harry saw the teachers gathered around.

"Potter! What – how – " McGonagall was cut off by a determined-looking Madam Pomfrey.

"Hospital Wing! Now!" The weight of his fatigue and his injuries rushed back into him as Harry faded into darkness.

XXXXX

Harry opened his eyes. _White. Too much white. I hate hospitals._ He fidgeted a bit and his arm brushed against an object to his left. Harry shifted and saw a head of elegantly flowing blonde hair fast asleep on the side of his bed. Running a hand through Daphne's soft locks, he smiled to himself. Daphne stirred.

"Morning, sunshine."

"Actually, afternoon." Harry frowned.

"I was out that long?"

"Yes." And then Daphne smacked him. Harry put a hand to his cheek, shocked at the sudden assault. "Never do something as stupid as that again! Taking on twelve Death Eaters on your own? Don't leave me, Harry." The last words of her rant were whispered. From anyone else, Harry would have been stung by the rebuke, but the pain of Daphne's words was too apparent. Harry drew her into a tight hug.

"I know. I'm sorry." He wanted to promise her that he'd stay, that he'd always be by her side, but he just couldn't. Harry knew that if there was danger again, his conscience would demand that he leap into action and she'd be the last person he'd willingly bring. The reasonable part of him was perfectly aware that Daphne was a powerful witch who could hold her own in combat, but the "hero" part of him knew that her presence would be far too much of a distraction. They continued to hold each other in silence until a knocking on the door drew their attention. Harry sighed.

"Enter."

McGonagall, Flitwick, and Snape entered. Harry was pleasantly surprised that Snape lacked his usual sneer. Perhaps Harry's association with one of his House members had curbed Snape's hate toward him.

"Kindly explain the events of last night, Potter," McGonagall demanded softly.

"I woke up and heard loud noises in the castle. After checking my magical map, I found out that Death Eaters were attacking the Hufflepuff dorms. When I got there, they were in the process of drilling through. I had to put up a barrier to stop them and to get their attention. We fought and now I'm here."

"That's all well and good, but that doesn't explain how you managed to overcome twelve death eaters."

"Nor does it explain the simply marvelous prison you managed to force Mr. Malfoy into," Flitwick added with a ear-to-ear grin.

"Professor Dumbledore left behind some things for me to study. They were rather useful." It was only a half-lie. Okay, it was a total lie. But Harry was sure that Dumbledore wouldn't have minded him snooping in his office. Flitwick's eyes took on a knowing gleam but he kept his mouth shut.

"You'll be interested to know, I'm sure, that your reckless tactics resulted in three fatalities, Potter," Snape said with a disdainful look. Harry supposed that his relationship with Daphne could only go so far when it came to the Potions master.

"Yes, and I will lose no sleep over it. I did what I had to do." Harry didn't have it settled quite so firmly in his mind yet, but he refused to show weakness in front of the greasy git. Madam Pomfrey came out of her office and decided that their business wasn't quite urgent enough, so she began to bustle over Harry.

"Now, dear, does anything still hurt?" she asked as she cast a few more diagnostic charms.

"No, you did a splendid job," Harry replied with a grin.

"Spare me the flattery and try to stay healthy, for once," Pomfrey said with a sigh. Harry left the Hospital Wing and was led to the empty classroom that had been turned into a prison of sorts.

"Every one of them has been healed and interrogated with a combination of Veritaserum and Legilimancy, except for Lucius Malfoy, who still has his wand in the ice. We thought it'd be best to have everyone ready to get him after he is unfrozen," McGonagall explained. "Potter, unfreeze him when you are ready."

His teachers sunk into dueling stances. "3…2….1…Go!" Harry said as he removed the ice. Malfoy stumbled free, disoriented, as he raised his wand but was struck by four swift Stunners. Snape reaching into his dramatically billowing cloak and withdrew a vial of clear liquid. He forced the Veritaserum down Malfoy's unconscious throat, conjured ropes to bind him, took his wand, then said "_Enervate"_. The Death Eater awoke and Snape commenced the questioning.

"How did you get into the school?"

"I blackmailed the other governors into relinquishing their positions and voting in my associates. Our positions allowed us to bypass the wards, so we walked straight in," Malfoy replied in a perfect monotone.

"What was the goal of your venture?"

"To create havoc, lower morale, and teach Mudbloods their place." Harry wanted to punch him.

"Where is your master?"

"I don't know."

"Who knows?"

"He has told nobody."

"What has he told you, with regards to his absence?"

"His orders were to remain hidden and gather forces. He said that he would return in early July to conquer the Wizarding world." The rest of Malfoy's answers gave minute details such as the total number of Death Eaters, the identities of their members, their goals, and a number of hiding places until the Veritaserum began to wear off. Snape then drew his wand once again and whispered: "_Legilimens!_"

After moments of silence, Snape came out of his trance, stunned Malfoy, and cast some binding spells on him.

"Everything he said was confirmed. I found no evidence of memory tampering," Snape reported.

"What's next, then?" Harry asked.

"We shall deliver the news to Fawkes. Once he knows, Professor Dumbledore will as well. Until then, Potter, please continue as you have all year. Obviously Professor Dumbledore's methods have been working for you. The prisoners will be safe here. Filius, Severus, and I have seen to that."

XXXXX

The next day, when Harry came down to breakfast, there was even more buzzing than usual and numerous glances were sent this way. _Please don't be about last night._ Harry groaned when he got to his table and saw the _Daily Prophet_.

_**Potter: Possibly Dark?**_

_Sources say that one Harry J. Potter, known for his unstable temper and delusional tendencies, is now channeling his rage into Dark Magic. When Hogwarts Governors appeared at the school for a surprise inspection, Potter threw a fit and killed three of them. Yes, the so-called "Boy Who Lived" is now a murderer! Minister of Magic and noted philanthropist Cornelius Fudge voiced his opinion on the matter:_

"_I have always said that Harry Potter's celebrity will go to his head. Evidently, he now believes that he is above the law. Rest assured that this maniacal murderer will not go unpunished."_

_It is believed that the remaining governors are being held hostage. If there is any justice in the world, Potter will be tried by the full Wizengamot and be sent to rot in Azkaban for the rest of his life._

_-Rita Skeeter_

Harry muttered several curses. "I thought you had Skeeter captured?" he asked Hermione.

"I thought I did, but when I went to check the jar this morning, it was empty," Hermione answered guiltily. "I don't know how long she's been gone."

"Relax, it's fine. They would've found someone else to slander me anyway." A large brown owl swooped into the Great Hall and dropped an official-looking envelope into Harry's hands. "My trial is in three days."

"This is bollocks!" said Ron. "It was obvious that it was in self-defense and that they were bloody Death Eaters! Why can't the Ministry just see that You-Know-Who is obviously back!" McGonagall approached the table.

"Our mutual acquaintances will be sure to find you the best possible lawyer, Potter." Harry knew that she meant the Order. "Hogwarts stands by its students." There were angry murmurs coming from the Slytherin section. Personally, Harry was amazed at how blatantly biased Skeeter's reporting had become. How dumb did the masses have to be to believe this drivel?

"Thanks," he replied to McGonagall. The rest of the day was, as he predicted, awful. He was getting even more fearful looks than usual. If he so much as made eye contact with anybody, it was followed up with shrieks of "Don't kill me!". Surprisingly, Draco Malfoy had little to say on the matter. Harry then remembered that with his father missing, Malfoy had more important things on his mind than schoolboy grudges.

XXXXX

Harry was in Dumbledore's office with Daphne, waiting for Number Eight to arrive. It had been a long day and he was looking forward to seeing someone who wouldn't avoid him like the plague. Harry felt a spell coming behind him and he pushed Daphne away and put up a shield.

"Excellent reflexes," Number Eight commented approvingly.

"How did your mission go?" Harry asked.

"It was a success. I must thank you for the headlines. Your actions kept the 'heart attack' of the Romanian Prime Minister on the second page."

"Glad to be of service," Harry replied drily. Number Eight waved his wand and the dueling arena and barrier were produced again.

"Let us begin, then. Show me how far you have come!"

XXXXX

Author's Note: This is probably the longest I've gone without updating. Feels weird. I was afraid that if I left it alone too long, it'd end up an abandoned project.

If anybody is wondering about all the Luna Lovegood references, no, Harry will not ditch Daphne for Luna. I'm just a huge fan of her character and it entertains me every time I write her in.

About my life, if anybody cares: school is brutal, as usual. I've nearly fallen asleep probably every day. The homework is all boring crap so far. My biology teacher assigns the most annoying charts to fill out and I don't know her well enough to determine whether she will check them or not. My physics teacher is crazy. He thought we looked too bored so he set a desk on fire and continued to teach. Also, I need to fill out my goddamn National Merit Scholarship finalist application that I have no chance of winning but my dad is making me do so anyway. Grawr, I don't want to waste my time writing an essay for some title that I'm not going to win! Anyway, enough moaning, etc. I need to get back to work :(

As usual, thanks for reading, reviewing, subscribing, or whatever you do with my story!

P.S. To my dear cousin Nancy, who is probably reading this: embrace your inner whale. I shall be a fireman. That is all.


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